


A Day at the Fair

by Corker



Series: Randy Rogues [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corker/pseuds/Corker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Competing with Leliana for Kallian Tabris's attention at the Redcliffe Summerday fair, Zevran uses pig wrestling as an excuse to present several handsome half-naked men for her viewing pleasure.  In response to the BSN ZevThread prompt, "Thedan holiday, Zevran-style."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day at the Fair

The people of Redcliffe needed a celebration.  After all of the horrors that had been visited upon the village, and the continuing, looming threat of civil war and Blight, they needed a reminder of the joy of life.  Arl Eamon rose from his sickbed not long before Summerday, and festivities which had been put off in light of his condition were rapidly put back on again.  
  
The Warden and her companions were convinced to stay for the Summerday fair.  The people wanted to show their gratitude to those who had saved them and their arl.  And after the harrowing journey to the lost village of Haven, and then the trip through the Gauntlet, they were ready for a little celebration themselves.  
  
Peasant bagpipes filled the air with raucous, reedy music as young men and women danced carols in the main square.  Ale and cider flowed freely, and whole baked fish were sold as quickly as they came off the coals.  Bodahn Feddic cracked open a crate full of ribbons, sparkling glass gewgaws, and tin soldiers, and did a brisk trade in them.   
  
Bann Teagan had sent to Rainesfere for a large, plump pig.  The porker was even now snuffling around a mud-filled pen, as a crowd of eager young men gathered around.  They would separate into teams of four, and whoever could hold the pig the longest would win it.  
  
Kallian Tabris was, for once, feeling merry.  Perhaps it was the two glasses of cider.  Maybe it was giggling with Leliana over ribbons.  But mostly it was just so _nice_ to be doing something so _normal_.  
  
Zevran tsk'ed at her and shook his head.  "Truly?  You find this amusing?"  
  
"Sure I do!" she said, grinning broadly.  "It's fun!  And... different!  Summerday was a little different in Denerim."  
  
"Also in Antiva City," Zevran nodded.  "There were no slobbering pigs, for one thing.  Why are they all staring at it?  I would think these sturdy country boys would have seen one before."  
  
"You don't know?  They're going to wrestle it!"  
  
"Wrestle it?" He raised an eyebrow.  "The pig?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"I did not know that pigs wrestled."  
  
"They don't!  But they'll wrestle it in the mud, and it's slippery, and there aren't too many hand-holds on a pig.  People fall down a lot.  It's funny!  And the winner gets the pig."  
  
"For a candle-lit dinner and what passes for dancing in these parts, I take it."  
  
She punched him in the arm.  "Only if you mean that the pig _is_ the dinner."  
  
"Hm."  He tapped his lips thoughtfully.    
  
"Andraste's knickers!"  Kallian tugged on his sleeve and pointed. "Look, they've got Sandal riding in a goat cart!"  
  


\------ 

  
Kallian gave the conversation no more thought until perhaps a half an hour later, just before the pig wrestling was due to start.  "Come, Alistair.  For the children!" Zevran was insisting.  
  
"I don't know.  Farm animals and I don't get along," her fellow Warden replied dubiously.  
  
"It's a splendid idea," Bann Teagan agreed.  "Good for morale _and_ charitable.  It wouldn't be the first time you've been covered in mud, Alistair."  
  
"It's not something I want to make a habit of!"  
  
"You're going to wrestle the pig?" Kallian asked incredulously.  
  
"Your Antivan friend here suggested it," Teagan replied.  "I thought it was somewhat ridiculous, as it's my pig, but if we win, we'll have it roasted and shared around tonight, starting with the children of Redcliffe."  
  
"It _is_ ridiculous," Sten said, crossing his arms.  "If your people are hungry, feed them.  Kill the beast cleanly and be done with it."  
  
"Oh, and there goes our fourth man." Zevran drooped, disappointed.  "Is there no persuading you, Sten?"  
  
"No.  I am a Sten of the Beresaad.  When the pig breaks out of its pen and threatens my life, I will fight it, and not before."  
  
"If I may?"  Ser Perth approached with his peculiar hestitant respect.  "Although it is... lacking somewhat in dignity, I do not place myself above the bann.  If you need a fourth man, I am he."  
  
"See?  _Ser Perth_ does not place himself above the bann," Zevran murmured to Alistair.  
  
"All right, all right!" Alistair sighed, knowing when to throw in the towel.  "I'll wrestle the blasted pig."  
  
"Marvelous!  We must make ready, then," Zevran said, nodding toward the crowd of young villagers, most of whom were already stripped to the waist.  
  
"What?" Alistair squawked all over again.    
  
"Our armor would give an unfair advantage," Ser Perth explained placidly, unbuckling his curiass.  "Something hard to press the pig with."  
  
"We could wear shirts," Alistair said flatly.  
  
Bann Teagan plucked at his silk doublet.  "I'm not quite so well off that I can afford to destroy this by rolling about in the mud with it."  He began to undo the buttons.  
  
"You have nothing to be ashamed of, my friend," Zevran said, tying his hair back into a... well, a pigtail.  "And the day is warm, _and_ it will save you from at least an hour of scrubbing your linens afterwards."  
  
"I suppose, but... _how are you undressed already?_ "  
  
"Practice, of course."  Bann Teagan chuckled, then tried to hide it in a cough.  
  
"Modesty is becoming, but surely there is no blame in this," Ser Perth said, shucking his padded gambeson as well.  "It is all in good fun."  
  
Alistair glowered at Zevran, who did his best to look innocent.  "Fine," the ex-templar sighed again.  "I hate doing laundry anyway."  
  
"We should go last, so as not to dispirit the lads," Ser Perth said.  
  
"Quite true," Teagan agreed.  "But we should announce our intentions, I think, before the contest is underway.  I will see to it."  Ser Perth automatically followed the bann, and Alistair trailed uncertainly along behind.  
  
Zevran looked back over his shoulder at Kallian and smirked.  "Happy Summerday, my dear Warden.  I hope it compares well to the ribbons, yes?"  And then, with a languid stretch and a wink, he was off after his team.  
  


\------ 

Bann Teagan, at least, was having fun. He laughed uproariously every time he slipped and fell into the mud, calling the pig a worthy adversary and letting it know it hadn't seen the last of him. The villagers clearly approved of this bit of theater and cheered.

Zevran, Alistair noted, was as spirited as he was in mortal combat, laughing the whole time. He was strong for his size, Alistair knew, but they needed sheer bulk to try and keep the pig in line. So the elven assassin generally ended up at someone's side or back, helping them grab and hold the pig. He seemed to prefer to team with Teagan for this close-quarters combat, and that suited Alistair just fine. Now he just needed to keep the pig between him and images he'd rather not see.

He didn't notice it at first, not with the laughing and shouting and snorting and cheering. Then there was a sudden sharp pain in his shoulder, well away from the pig's sharp feet or snout. Then he heard the buzzing - bees?

Some of the villagers were pointing into the air excitedly. A whole swarm of bees! If they could be lured into a hive, it would mean more honey for the village. Someone was sent to fetch some honeycomb and a box and the Maker was thanked for this fine gift on Summerday.

Alistair was stung again, and he heard Zevran grunt. Ser Perth made a pained, quizzical sound. Right in front of his nose, Alistair saw four... not bees. Wasps? Blighted wasps? land on the pig. Four stingers plunged down.

The pig squealed and bucked, throwing Perth immediately. "Keep hold, keep hold!" Teagan exhorted.

"Does this count?" Zevran had slithered up onto the pig, locking his legs around its fat neck. He couldn't be said to be controlling it, but he certainly had a hold on it.

More wasps buzzed low and stung, and the pig tore out their grasps, careering around the pen with the assassin along for the ride. The villagers cheered some more, and Teagan and Perth scrambled after the pig.

Alistair didn't. He'd finally placed the bugs as something he'd seen in the Wilds, around Ostagar. Ignoring a few more stings, he took a deep breath and drew his hands in, focusing. Then he pushed out, with breath and arms and will, shoving away any magic in the area.

Morrigan fell six feet out of the sky, splat into the mud.

It would be wrong to say that a silence fell, not with the pig still squealing and Zevran laughing and Teagan shouting. But the villagers, at least, grew quiet at this display of sorcery.

From the sidelines, Leliana began to cheer loudly. "Brilliant! How did you do it? Didn't it look real?" Kallian quickly joined in, and the villagers slowly followed.

Morrigan got to her feet, ignoring the pig as it thundered past with its attendants. She wiped mud off her face and, after a moment of consideration, flicked it at Alistair. "I hate you," she told him.

"Pig," he said.

"What? What are you talking ab-- Oh!" The porker knocked her back down into the mud, and Alistair grabbed onto a shoulder again, trying very hard not to notice how close that put his face to the back of one of Zevran's thighs.

The pig was, at length, subdued and led off to its fate. The five climbed over the pen rails, Ser Perth courteously offering Morrigan his hand, which she spurned.

"Well, that was invigorating!" Zevran said. "And the wasps certainly added some challenge to it. We have you to thank for that, lovely Morrigan?"

She sniffed. "I will not deny it. I think it added to the amusement. Would you not agree?"

"Oh, very much so." Zevran smiled wolfishly. "I will display the marks with pride. How do you call them... love bites, yes?"

Her golden eyes widened. "It was nothing of the sort and you know it!"

"The heart knows what the heart knows," he sighed dramatically. Alistair snickered. "And here I thought she didn't like me."

"I do not. In fact, I hate you both. More than ever," the witch gritted, before turning on her heel and stalking off.

"We're going to pay for that later," Alistair grinned.

"I am in fact looking forward to it," Zevran replied. "It will make the dull nights in camp more interesting, no?"


End file.
